


All the time in the world

by burdenedwithgloriousfandoms



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Banter, Fluff and Angst, Ghost Ryan Bergara, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Or Is he?, Shane Madej Loves Ryan Bergara, Shane Madej-Centric, except one of them is actually a ghoul now, its not an unsolved fic if you don't use the word 'wheeze' at least once, maybe it's just shane's imagination, me being sad too, no beta we die like db cooper, not much fluff sorry, shane being sad, the ghoul boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 04:57:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20148013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burdenedwithgloriousfandoms/pseuds/burdenedwithgloriousfandoms
Summary: Shane looks up slowly to his reflection in the mirror, and just about faints.It's him, it’s Ryan, and he's still there when Shane turns around to face him. He's standing in Shane’s goddamn bathroom, with that stupid grin and his dumb black hair flopping in his eyes. But when Shane focuses, he's not entirely there. He's slightly transparent, slightly faded, and his feet blur with the tiled floor.‘Ryan?''What's wrong, big guy? You look like you've seen a ghost!'--Ryan dies. Shane isn't coping well. Hauntings ensue.





	All the time in the world

**Author's Note:**

> I actually originally wrote this for a school short story comp (except it was with OCs and much much shorter). It did not win because the school is a good christian school that does not like the gay shit I write.  
Hope you enjoy it more than the school did ;)

A car drive and a busy street. That’s all it takes, and suddenly Ryan is gone.

_Text me when you get home safe. I want to talk to you._

He never reads it. Never replies. It breaks Shane whenever he sees it in his phone – he'll just be scrolling aimlessly through contacts, barely registering the names, the missed calls, the unread messages asking _are you okay_, and end up staring at that last text.

Ryan was Shane’s light, and now he's gone out. Everything is dark.

They’d met when they were both pretty new to BuzzFeed. There’d been some desk swaps and so Shane had stuffed his bits and pieces in a box and carted them over the other side of the room.

_‘Hi. You’re Shane, right?’ _The man sitting at the desk next to him had said, and smiled. ‘_Nice to meet you. I’m Ryan._’

‘_Nice to meet you too._’ Shane had replied, and smiled back. They’d gone out for coffee the next day, and pretty soon had become good friends. Ryan was unlike anyone he’d ever met – slightly strange but friendly, smart, hardworking, and really interesting to talk to.

He’d jumped at the chance to co-host on Unsolved when Ryan had approached him about it one morning. _‘Of course I wanna investigate weird murders with you, buddy. And go wind-hunting.’_

_‘Oh, shut up.’ _Ryan had said, and shoved him, laughing.

The show took off, and suddenly the two of them were spending all their time together. Watching movies and taste-testing different popcorn brands, sleeping in ‘haunted’ houses, researching conspiracy theories until their brains bled, volunteering one another for weird BuzzFeed videos…

Sometimes it felt to Shane like it would stay like that forever. The two of them, shoulders touching, laughing until they couldn’t breathe, driving along empty roads at sunset.

But forever never happened. Everything went so fast, and then they were there, on that last afternoon.

The last rays of sunlight turn everything golden, including Ryan. It lights up his smile, his dark, beautifully happy eyes, and Shane gazes at him. They're on the footpath beside a noisy street, but all he can focus on is the man beside him. Their hands brush, lightly, and he gets the sudden urge to entwine his fingers with Ryan’s and never let go.

He doesn’t.

And that's when Shane realises what the feeling in his chest is. The fondness and happiness bubbling in his lungs whenever Ryan grins at him, the joy winding its way around his heart and squeezing it. _Love. _He's in love with Ryan.

He’s always been in love with Ryan

'Look, I need to head home. I've got that true crime video to finish editing, which I really shouldn't've left ‘til last minute, but-'

'That- that’s okay.’

They stop, and Ryan hugs him. 'See you later, big guy.'

Shane is breathless with his realisation, and still thinking at a hundred miles an hour when Ryan pulls away. 'Yeah... see ya.'

He walks away with a final wave and a smile, and Shane stands there, watching him disappear into the anonymous river of people. Then he gets out his phone; types, deletes, types and deletes, until he’s (relatively) happy.

_Text me when you get home safe. I want to talk to you._

Of course, he never gets to talk to Ryan. He never gets the chance to tell him.

Without Ryan his world is grey and silent. He sinks deep into depression, and the world somehow keeps on turning as he's frozen there. Dishes stack up around him. Dirty clothes are dumped in piles on the floor.

Unsolved disintegrates. It was Ryan’s baby, his idea, his show, and to continue it without him just seems wrong. Shane can’t finish editing the last video they filmed together. He posts a small tribute to Ryan on twitter and then deletes the app from his phone. He can’t face the fans any more than the editing.

He doesn't cry.

Maybe it's just refusing to believe that Ryan is actually gone. Maybe it's just that he has so much emotion building up inside him, like a storm on a humid evening, and it's waiting for a chance to erupt in thunder and lightning and rain. Or maybe he's just broken.

It's about a month after the funeral, and Shane is cleaning his teeth. His mind has finally taken a break from the _what if_ game – _what if I'd told him then and there. Would he have still left? Would he have stayed, and lived? _– and he heads back out into the kitchen for a minute to grab a cup when there's a _bang_ from the bathroom. With a sigh, he trudges back in, only to find the main lightbulb has blown.

'Great. Just great.' He groans and flicks the light above the mirror on instead.

Part of the mirror is misted over, like someone has breathed on it. And in that patch a smiley face has been drawn.

He shrugs and wipes it off with the back of his hand, and goes to rinse off his toothbrush.

'I told you ghosts were real, you idiot.' A breath of cool air makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

Shane looks up slowly to his reflection in the mirror, and just about faints.

It's _him_, it’s Ryan, and he's still there when Shane turns around to face him. He's standing in Shane’s goddamn bathroom, with that stupid grin and his dumb black hair flopping in his eyes. But when Shane focuses, he's not _entirely_ there. He's slightly transparent, slightly faded, and his feet blur with the tiled floor.

‘Ryan?'

'What's wrong, big guy? You look like you've seen a ghost!'

'Oh my god. Oh my god.' He reaches out to touch Ryan’s chest, but his hand goes straight through.

'You... you're- how?'

'I dunno. But I was right all along! Ghosts, check. Demons... I mean, probably. And if we've marked both those off, why not just accept the existence of Mothman?'

'No.' Shane says, and sinks to the floor with his back against the sink cabinets, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. 'No.'

'No to Mothm-'

_'No_. This can't be happening. I've finally cracked. I'm having a psychotic break and hallucinating all this.'

'Oh, Shane.' Ryan’s voice softens and he slides down the opposite wall so they're sitting facing each other. 'I... _god_, I'm so sorry. I always thought we'd have so long together, and I-'

'What? No-' Shane instinctively reaches out to touch his hand, and flinches back. 'Hell no. None of this is your fault. A kid ran a red light. You _saved_ him. It wasn't your choice to- to...'

'To die?'

'Yeah.'

'Yeah... I- I never wanted to leave you, not like this-'

'It wasn't your fault.'

'I know. And it wasn't yours either.'

Shane sighs, and pulls himself up. 'I'm going to bed. Look, I want you back, of course I do, but I'm going crazy. You'll be gone when I wake up, and then I'll be alone again.’

And when he looks back, Ryan isn’t there. He stands by himself in the small white bathroom, and buries his face in his hands.

He doesn’t sleep that night.

In the morning light, the evening before seems like a dream. He shakes his head and walks to the pantry to find some cereal. When he turns around empty handed, Ryan’s sitting on the couch.

‘Oh.’ Shane says, and goes to open the fridge instead.

‘I’m haunting your sorry ass. Pay attention to me.’ Ryan says.

‘I need to go to a psychologist, don’t I? This is just my subconscious realising that I’m screwed up.’

Ryan sighs, and walks over to him. ‘You’re not screwed up. You’re just grieving.’

‘Why me? Why not haunt your family?’

They’re standing facing each other again, and Ryan’s hands twitch as if he wants to reach out. ‘You are my family, Shane. I don’t know why it’s taken you so long to realise.’

‘I… I never got to-’ He breaks off. He can’t say it, not yet. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.’

Ryan smiles gently, sadly. ‘It’s okay.’

They have breakfast together- or, at least, Shane eats toast and Ryan watches him from the other side of the table. It’s beautifully peaceful and domestic, and Shane aches for a time when that was possible.

_‘You reckon if I die I’ll become a ghost just to prove to you that they’re real?_

_‘Oh, shut up.’ _Shane had said, and shoved him lightly, but what he’d really meant was _no. No, you’re not going to die. Don’t even think about it._

The next time Ryan appears is in the middle of a busy city square. Shane is sitting on a bench, staring aimlessly at the clear summer sky.

‘Hey.’

‘You’re back.’

‘Yup. I… I can’t really control when I disappear, I don’t think. I don’t know how long I’ll be here for.’

‘Are you scared?’ He can’t help but ask. Ryan looks thoughtful.

‘I don’t think so, to be honest. You’d think I would be, but I’m just… calm.’

‘I miss you.’

‘I know you do. I miss you too.’

The woman on the bench next to him is staring, but he finds he doesn’t really care.

‘All I want is you back. I just… I think about it all the time. If I’d said something- something that would’ve stopped you from leaving that day, if-’

‘Shane. No, hey- look at me.’ Ryan turns so they’re facing each other properly. ‘That day happened. There’s nothing you can do about that. Nothing you could’ve done.’

‘I want you back. I want you back so bad.’ He reaches out, but his fingers go straight through Ryan’s hand.

‘You've gotta move on, Shane.’

The piles of dirty clothes and plates seem to properly register to him for the first time as he steps through his apartment door. The whole place is dark and murky and desperately in need of a clean, contrasting sharply with the bright, clear day outside.

Shane takes a deep breath, opens the windows, and sets to work.

He shoves the clothes in a basket, strips the sheets from the bed and does several loads in the washing machine. The racks on the balcony are full with clean-smelling, damp clothes blowing in the slight breeze. He washes up the dishes and throws out two-week-old pizza boxes and wipes the benches. He even vacuums.

By the end of the day, he’s absolutely exhausted, but he feels better than he has in a long time. Much better. The apartment doesn’t smell anymore, and his head is slightly clearer too. It’s nice.

The satisfaction and calm doesn’t last too long. Everything he sees reminds him of Ryan, of the gaping hole in his chest that a clean apartment won’t quite fix.

A couple of days later he finds himself driving through the city, lights and faces and buildings blurring past the windscreen. It’s getting dark. He doesn’t know where he’s going. He’s just driving.

He’s barely driven since- _since Ryan’s death_. _He’s dead. He’s gone, he’s not coming back-_

‘Shane.’ Ryan says from the passenger seat. Shane curses and swerves, narrowly missing a traffic island.

‘Holy shit, you’re gonna kill me-’

‘Sorry! I’m sorry!’

Shane gets the car back into control and takes a deep breath, then looks over at Ryan. He’s sitting, no seatbelt, leaning back with his feet up on the dash. The light from the streetlights flashing intermittently across the inside of the car passes straight through him and onto the seat.

‘You’re here again.’

He looks apologetic. ‘Didn’t mean to startle you. Where are you heading?’

‘Dunno.’

‘You’re just driving?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Oh. Okay.’

They’re both silent for a while, and the only noise is the thrumming of the car and the radio. Outside, the buildings have slowly thinned out and morphed into dark, bare mountains. The road winds upwards, into the black sky.

The song on the radio changes to something slow and sad. Shane gazes out the windscreen, sneaking the occasional glance at Ryan beside him, and lets the male singer’s soft voice wash over him.

_Remember all the things we wanted_

_Now all our memories, they're haunted_

_We were always meant to say goodbye_

‘Ryan?’

‘Yeah?’

‘I’m so glad I met you.’

Ryan smiles, and his heart aches at the sight. ‘I’m so glad I met you too. That big head of yours sure has been good to have around over the years.’

Shane lets out a small laugh. It’s the first time he’s laughed in a long time. ‘Why, Bergara, what a lovely complement. I’ve really- well, life is dull without someone to banter with. You are- _were_\- are such a big, wonderful part of my life, you and Unsolved and everything we shared and did together, and I miss you, and-’

_You know that I love you so_

_I love you enough to let you go_

His knuckles are bloodless from gripping the steering wheel, and he tries to breathe. The song on the radio swells, and he notices his eyes are damp.

_I want you to know_

_That it doesn't matter_

_Where we take this road_

_But someone's gotta go_

‘And I don’t regret any of it, except- except-’

‘I don’t regret it either. Just that we didn’t get more time.’

_And I want you to know_

_You couldn't have loved me better_

_But I want you to move on_

Ryan reaches out and lays his hand over Shane’s on the steering wheel. He can almost feel it.

_So I’m already gone_

_I’m already gone_

‘I miss you.’ Shane says. ‘I miss you so much.’

_Remember all the things we wanted_

_Now all our memories, they're haunted_

_We were always meant to say goodbye_

The song echoes in his mind for the rest of the night. He drives back home alone.

Shane heads to the BuzzFeed office the morning after the drive, and it’s like he’s walking in a dream. Instinct and habit guide his car to the building, and guide his feet up the stairs to the level his desk is on.

He almost expects to see Ryan glancing up as he walks in the door, waving to him, sitting at his desk over the other side room, editing with headphones on, or attempting to drink his cup of too-hot coffee.

Instead, his chair is painfully empty. His desk, however, is filled with flowers, cards, bits and pieces stacked up as a tribute to the man who Shane had loved. Still loved. Would always love. He takes a shaky step forward and makes his way across the room towards it.

Silence falls in his wake. He hears his name being called, but doesn’t bother to turn and see who it is. It almost feels like this is a world he doesn’t belong in anymore. Everything is so bright, so blurred, so alien.

He touches the cool surface of the desk, lays his hand on it gently as if he’ll be able to replay all the times they’d sat there together, editing late into the night, eating take-out with their shoulders brushing. He runs his fingers over the flowers and all the other tributes.

_So sorry._

_Taken too young._

_So much left to live._

_Miss you._

_Rest in peace._

_Ryan. _

_Ryan._

_Ryan._

Shane closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and sits down at his desk instead. Someone says his name, brushes his shoulder, touches his back. He doesn’t care to see who. Noise slowly returns to the room around him.

He gets out his laptop, and turns it on.

Hours and hours later, when the sky outside the windows is dark, he presses save and takes off his headphones. The office is pretty much empty.

Ryan is sitting in his desk beside Shane’s.

‘Hey, buddy. Good to see you back at work.’

Shane smiles hesitantly, letting out a breath and stretching the tension from his shoulders. ‘I guess it is. It feels weird though.’

Ryan smiles in return. ‘That’s alright. You’re doing amazing.’

‘Not really. I mean, I’m seeing ghosts. Or, well, a ghost. Guess that means I’m a boogara now.’

‘Ha! Finally, he admits it!’

‘Oh, shut up. I still don’t believe in Mothman, or lizard people, or that aliens have-’

‘Still.’ Ryan crosses his arms and leans back into the office chair, smirking.

‘Hmph.’ Shane says, mock grumpy, and closes his laptop.

He drives home. Ryan watches him from the passenger seat again. They talk about all the cases they’ve been on, all the places they’ve been, all the places they’d still love to go. It hurts, but at the same time it’s wonderful to discuss everything one more time. Shane doesn’t want to forget any of it. He doesn’t want it to fade into the back of his memory like so many other things have. He doesn’t want to lose the only thing he has left of Ryan.

They have dinner together- or, at least, Shane orders pizza, puts something on from Netflix and Ryan sits beside him on the couch, shoulders almost touching, hands almost entwined.

He doesn’t see Ryan for a week after that. He doesn’t know if he’s gone, doesn’t even know if he was actually there in the first place. It hurts, that he’d been starting to accept never seeing Ryan again and suddenly he was right there, almost within reach.

There's a small courtyard on top of his apartment block, and as the sun dips down towards the skyline he walks up the creaky metal steps and steps out into the afternoon. The brown grass, long since dead, greets his bare feet with a crackle. Above him, the sky stretches over in an endless blue dome, broken only by the clouds gathering on the horizon. Shane watches them as he sits down, and hopes it'll rain. It's been an awfully hot and humid day, and even now the temperature still soars far above comfortable.

After a while he suddenly knows he's not by himself, and sure enough, Ryan’s there, in front of the wilting flower bed. There's a sad sort of half-smile on his face, and Shane knows that it's time.

Ryan takes a step forward, not even rustling the grass. 'Do you believe that I'm actually here? That you're not just imagining me?'

'I want to.' He says, and his throat constricts so much he can barely speak. 'I- I really want to.'

They sit down side by side in silence, just the two of them under the rapidly darkening sky. It feels like a dream, yet everything is so real, so solid, so _there_. Everything except Ryan.

‘Take care of yourself.’ Ryan turns to him. ‘I don’t want to see you for a long time yet.’

‘I- I can’t promise that-’

He gives him a look. ‘You can. Find someone that makes you happy. Rebuild your life. I know you can. You’re strong, Shane.’

‘Okay.’ Shane says. ‘Okay.’

_Stay with me. Stay with me forever_, he wants to say. _We can have all the time in the world_. _Everything we never had._

But instead he says 'I love you.'

Ryan smiles at him, and it's golden and wonderful and fleeting just like the golden afternoon sunlight. 'I love you too.'

Shane sits out there for a while longer, and it's just him and the stars. He knows he's alone now. So utterly alone. But somehow the darkness isn't quite so heavy anymore, and he smiles even through the tears finally falling down his cheeks like salty rain.

'Goodbye, Ryan.'

Dry grass crackles under his feet as he takes one last look at the shimmering stars above, and walks slowly back inside.

The next day two videos appear on the internet. The first one is their last case together – full of wheezes and theories and bickering, and the blissful obliviousness that their world would soon come crashing down around them.

The second video is a tribute, a mash of bloopers, laughter, hugs, screams, and above all, smiles. Ryan’s smile.

And sometimes, when Shane closes his eyes, he's back there in the busy street, the last afternoon sunlight bathing the world in gold. The cars racing past are muted, and all they know is each other. Ryan’s hand is in his this time, warm and solid and real.

In his mind, Ryan never leaves. In his mind, that afternoon goes on forever.

And then they really do have all the time in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> i am a cryptid that feeds off comments,,, so plz,,,,, (i will love you forever)  
song is already gone by sleeping at last. heckin good music, go give it a listen. (already gone, mars and saturn are currently my favourites)


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